


Letters of Love

by jonsastan (lilzipop)



Series: Spring Blossom [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Historical AU, Jonsa Spring Blossom Challenge, and if you watch game of thrones you'll be fine, jonsa, little bit of violence but i mean it is a war, told through letters, ww1 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 23:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18187013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilzipop/pseuds/jonsastan
Summary: WW1 Au told through letters. Jon is fighting far away from home and his fiancé, Sansa Stark, is fighting for her home.





	Letters of Love

**Author's Note:**

> The last of the Jonsa Spring Blossom challenge! I chose 'Letters' as my prompt. I made this WW1 Au because I love historical Au and historical dramas. I based some of Jon's participation in the Gallipoli Campaign on my own Great-Grandfather's experience and the some of the letters on my great-grandparents correspondence. So it's close to my heart. Again, un-beta-ed so please forgive me!

September 30th 1914

 

Dear Jon,

 

It’s been one day since we said goodbye and I miss you already. It’s illogical but it’s true. Arya has not stopped talking about you and Robb and how brave you both are and how it’s unfair she can’t join up. Mother got very annoyed at that. I got sad. 

 

You need to promise me you’ll look out for each other. I need my brother and my fiancé to come home when this is all over. You need to take care of yourself. I know you will want to be brave and noble and fight anyone and anything, and I want you to be, but I also want you to be safe. I’m so conflicted. You need to be yourself, your brave and gentle and strong self, but I need you to be safe. 

 

Be safe Jon, and write me. Write me whenever you can, however you can. And come home.

 

Yours always,

Sansa

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_ March 28th 1915 _

 

_ Dearest Sansa, _

 

_ I miss you. I miss you more than anything. It’s been so hot here. Robb and I bought presents for yourself and Arya. I’ve included them in this parcel. Robb picked out the silk scarf for you and the letter knife for Arya. I picked up the small dagger for Arya and I got you the puzzle box. I know it’s not what most men would get for their fiancé, but it called your name at the stall.  _

 

_ The training is hard, but I’m determined to see it through. We might be sent off somewhere soon. The Australian’s whisper of Turkey. I’ll send you a postcard.  _

 

_ My thought drift back to you whenever I’m not distracted. I can see your red hair and your smile and your lovely, lovely eyes. These thoughts sustain me. These thoughts and your picture. I keep it close to me always, near my heart which is entirely yours.  _

 

_ Yours Always, _

 

_ Jon _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

June 1st 1915

 

My Dearest Jon, 

 

You need to write to me. Write your pain and your fear and your worries and I will keep them, I will lock them away in my puzzle box. You must unburden yourself. You are not alone Jon and if I could be with you I would. But writing to me will help I know it will. 

 

I will tell you of Winterfell. We’ve made it a convalescent home for the soldiers. Mother is enjoying having purpose, and I enjoy helping in any small way I can. I’ve taken a course and am officially a trained nurse. I was surprise when Arya came along with me, but I am not anymore. She’s going to France, she’s joined an all female brigade of ambulance drivers. Mother is not pleased at that. Father was proud. He’s been feeling dreadfully useless. Ever since he was told he was ‘not needed’ to fight he’s been upset, the soldiers give him purpose. 

 

I’ve packed you biscuits and socks. I even managed to get cigarettes and some whiskey. Don’t how, you won’t like the answer. Please write your story to me. I want to hear more about the Australians and the Turks and you. 

 

Write soon.

 

I love you.

 

Yours 

 

Sansa

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_ August 16th 1915 _

 

_ Dearest Sansa, _

 

_ The Australians are odd. They drink and smoke and laugh, but they fight like the devil is in them. They weren't fond of me and Robb at first. Called us “bloody poms”, the nicest things they called us, but I hit one when he tried to take the socks you sent me and they like me now.  _

 

_ I’ve made a friend of one Australian. Giant of man with red hair. He saw the picture of you and when I told him you were a red head he said I had good taste. He tried to convince me he’d wrestled a crocodile and a dingo. I like him. He’s brave, and strong but loyal. You’d like him. Maybe when this is over you’ll meet him.  _

 

_ That’s a dangerous thought. After. I try not to think about after. Because I start to think about being with you, holding you, running my fingers through your hair. I think about our wedding, with you in a white dress and holding those blue roses you love. I think about after our wedding, when we’re living on the Winterfell estate and I imagine little boys and girls with red hair and grey eyes calling me ‘Father’. And then I wake. And I’m here, in the heat with the bombs going and going, where the flies swarm when you open your mouth, where lifting your head means you could die.  _

 

_ I tried to hate the people on the other side. But I can’t they don’t hate us and more than we hate them. There was a boy, a Turkish boy, who got so close to our trench before he was shot. During the cease fire went to collect the dead and the boy was still alive. He was bleeding and he was crying and I couldn’t help him. So I knelt next to him and held hand has be spoke in a language I couldn’t understand  and I spoke to him in a language he couldn’t understand. As his breath slowed I understood one word. “Asya”. It’s a girls name. This boy was dying, he couldn’t have been much older than Bran and he was dying and calling for his sweetheart.  _

 

_ God Sansa I shouldn’t tell you this. But they lied to us. Every poem, every song, every story telling of the glories of war was lying. It’s not glorious, it’s death and stink and filth.  _

 

_ It needs to be over Sansa. I need to come back to you. Tell me of Winterfell, distract me with you. _

 

_ Robb sends his love. I love you. _

 

_ Always,  _

 

_ Jon _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

September 26th 1915

 

My Dearest Jon,

 

I shall enjoy meeting Tormund. We can have tea and Australian sweets like Lamingtons. 

 

We have our own Australians in the house. Some are going to head back when they are healed, some are just staying before they're sent home. They tend to be the most hopeful. I help Doctor Tarly with his rounds, I’ve gotten good at stitches. Some of the men like to talk. They tell me about their lives before the war, and their plans for after. They don’t talk about the war. 

 

Arya has left, but she sends word when she can. She feels better, being a part of everything. She even shot a revolver, but asked me not to tell Mother. Bran is restless. He wants to fight and be a part of everything but he’s too young. I’m worried he plans to sneak off and enlist somewhere they won't know him. But I cannot control him, only hope he will see how his actions could hurt our family. 

 

Father plans for your and Robb's return when he has time. He mostly spends time with the soldiers and helping the people in the village. But when he can, he plans pig farms and greenhouses and grandchildren. He misses you. But I miss you more. 

 

I don’t know what to tell you Jon. I want to tell you everything, but I don’t want to burden you more. I don’t know how to tell you that I heard a man’s last words, that there are men blind and broken that I can’t fix, that I imagine every man I help is you because it’s the only way I can have the energy to get up every morning. 

 

I worry about you and Robb so much I can’t sleep at night. But I know my worrying does not make you bulletproof, or immune to disease, or end the fighting. 

 

We’ll have our future Jon. We’ll have a wedding and our home and children. But I want them all to look like you. 

 

Tell Robb I love him and to write more. 

 

Remember I love you.

 

Always yours,

 

Sansa

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

_ November 12th 1915 _

 

_ Dearest Sansa, _

 

_ Tormund would like Lamingtons. He wants you to keep an eye out for other brave women. I told him you were a nurse not a matchmaker.  _

 

_ Bran might try, but you could warn any place within 10 miles. It should keep him safe for longer. Tell him the war does not need more boys too young to fight. The war needs to end.  _

 

_ You asked me to tell you of my life here, please tell me of yours. Tell me the horrid and foul things you deal with. Tell me of everything. I want to know you and know your life. I would like to come home to a stranger.  _

 

_ I lost a friend two days ago. His name was Grenn and lived in the south. He died bravely, but he died all the same. Robb’s doing well, he’s rising in the ranks, and he’s ambitious, but it’s hard _

 

_ I know what Hell is Sansa. It is a dry heat and a sun that scorches and typhoid. It is dirty and festering and stinks. I am living in it, Sansa. I’m living in Hell.  _

 

_ Don’t Sister Mordane I said that. She’d cross the word to grab me by the ear and make me say prays until my knees were bruised.  _

 

_ I miss you. I miss you more than I can say.  _

 

_ I love you Sansa and your love keeps me going. _

 

_ Always, _

 

_ Jon _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

December 25th 1915

 

Dear Jon,

We just got the letter. Mother is crying. Brann is angry. Rickon does not truly understand. I have written to Arya, because Father- Father had a heart attack after hearing the news. He has yet to awaken. Dr Tarly is not optimistic. I don’t know if you can apply for leave, if you can come home. But maybe you can try. 

 

The letter said you were with him, when it happened. That you brought his body back to our side so he could be sent home to us. Thank you Jon. Thank you for being our family. 

 

I need you to know, that you are not to blame. You are not to feel guilty. It was not your fault. War kills innocents and soldiers and bystanders. It rarely achieves its aim. You are brave and strong and gentle. 

 

Robb would have been proud of you. 

 

Merry Christmas my love. I miss you.

 

Love always,

 

Sansa

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

_January_ _  31st 1916 _

 

_ Dear Sansa, _

 

_ I’m out of Gallipoli. They got us out. The first time I was away from the shells I thought I had gone deaf. I could only hear ringing in my ears. And then, slowly I heard sounds, I heard people talking and engines churning. The only sounds I want to hear is your voice, your laugh.  _

 

_ I’m sorry. About Robb. I know you said it wasn’t my fault, that I should not feel guilty but I do, I am. I should have stopped him, I should have protected him better. I caused your father to have a heart attack, I am the reason your mother sobs, I’m the reason Bran has signed up. I am to blame for our family falling apart.  _

 

_ I can’t write for a while Sansa.  _

 

_ I’m sorry. _

 

_ Yours, _

 

_ Jon _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

February 15th 1916

 

Dear Jon,

 

Don’t you dare Jon. Don’t you dare hide from me. Don’t you dare take the blame for Robb’s death and the consequences of that. It’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong. You are brave and Robb would be proud of you. 

 

Father passed. Mother is ill now. Dr Tarly is not sure she will live much longer. I need you to write to me Jon. I need to know you’re still there. I need you to be with me through this Jon. 

 

I love you, I don’t blame you. I love you and I miss you.

 

Yours now and always,

 

Sansa

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

April 22nd 1916

 

Jon, 

 

Please. I need to know. I need you to be okay. 

 

Love you now and always,

 

Sansa

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

May 8th 1916

 

Jon,

 

Bran’s home. He won't ever walk again. He has war neurosis. He keeps talking about men marching with red and white and black. He talks about libraries burning and people with stars on their chests. 

 

I’ve kept the convalescent home open. I have some help from the surrounding families. There is a girl named Gilly who has been a godsend. She seems to get along with Dr Tarly.  

 

I miss you. 

 

I love you.

 

Sansa

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_ October 19th 1916 _

 

_ Dear Sansa, _

 

_ I’m sorry. I am so sorry.  _

 

_ I love you. I am safe, I am alive and I will come home to you.  _

 

_ I am not enough for you, but I will try to be.  _

 

_ Please forgive me. _

 

_ Jon. _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

November 27th 1916

 

Dear Jon,

 

It was not your fault there was nothing to forgive. You can’t hide from when I’m not there to find you. You’re not allowed to do that again. 

 

Gilly is in love with Sam, that’s Dr Tarly. It’s strangely sweet to see something pure and intense blossoming in war. It makes me hopeful. It makes me think of us. 

 

Bran is himself sometimes. Other times he’s odd. He can’t take care of Winterfell when it’s all over. And I don’t think Rickon will be ready anytime soon. He hides away in books and fantasy worlds. 

 

Arya is well. She’s managed to save lives and she’s even had to dress as a man to get across a border.

 

I dream of after. I dream of our home being whole. I dream of us. 

 

I love you now and always,

 

Sansa.

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_January 4th_ _1917_

 

_ Dearest Sansa, _

 

_ I had a dream. It was new years eve. We were whole, we were together. You were dressed in blue, in that beautiful river blue that makes your eyes shine. And your had champagne in your hand, and diamonds in your ears, but most importantly you had a smile on your lips. We were standing on the balcony at Winterfell and the stars shone and we could hear the people in the ballroom counting down. And I lent in, close enough to smell your orange flower scent and feel the warmth of you. And just as they reach midnight we move together and I can almost taste your lips.  _

 

_ I dream of you Sansa and you keep me sane.  _

 

_ I love you. _

 

_ I  am yours. _

 

_ Jon _

 

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_ June 16th 1917  _

 

_ Dear Miss Stark, _

 

_ We regret to inform you that Captain Jon Snow of the Royal Light Infantry has been killed in the line of duty. We have forwarded his belongings to you as his closest family. _

 

_ You have our sympathies, _

 

_ General Jeor Mormont _

 

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

_ October 27th 1917 _

 

_ Dear Miss Stark, _

 

_ There is a young man at this hospital that claims to be Jon Snow. I do not know how to authenticate this information, but I thought you should be made aware. Please let me know if you would like correspondence from this young man or if you have any information you would like use to verify his identity. _

 

_ Kind Regards, _

 

_ Margaery Tyrell _

_ Chief Nurse at Highgarden Hospital _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

_ Dear Jeor Mormont, _

 

_ You are cordially invited to wedding of Sansa Stark of Winterfell and Jon Snow of Castle Black _

 

_ The wedding will take place on the 31st of January at the Winterfell estate. _

 

_ The ceremony will commence promptly at 11am.  _

 

_ Kind regards, _

 

_ Jon and Sansa _


End file.
